


A Perfect Storm

by ianmickeyaf



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, but only a tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:20:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3640029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ianmickeyaf/pseuds/ianmickeyaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite having a class together, and being at his house at least four times a week, and thinking Mickey was the hottest guy he knew in real life, Ian had rarely spoken to Mickey. When Ian asked Mandy about it, Mandy had assured Ian that Mickey was an asshole who didn’t like anyone and not to worry about it. So he’d hadn’t.</p><p>But now he could <em>feel</em> him. </p><p>Maybe. Was it Mickey he was feeling? In 16 years he had never been able to feel anyone other than his brothers and sisters and Monica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Perfect Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I'm nervous because this has lived in my head so long and I hardly ever write and I've def never written any sex so..yeah.
> 
> Thanks tessa/delgay/giantgingerfuck for reading over it and making me feel like it's not crap. :) Sorry I don't know how to put a link in the author's notes.
> 
> Title from Dark Horse by Katy Perry bc i'm trash but not trash enough to call this "so you wanna play with magic?"
> 
> ianmickeyaf on tumblr come say hi!

_________

The feeling hit Ian the way it always did. His stomach churned and the nausea settled hard and fast. His fingertips tingled, sending sparks all along his nerves. _fix it fix it fix it._

He looked around for searching for...searching for who? For Lip. He was the only one it could be. None of his other siblings were at the high school, so only Lip was close enough. Ian wracked his brain. 2nd period was about to start. Lip had gym and Ian was in the Math wing. He wouldn’t be able to feel him anyway, they weren’t close enough. Unless Lip was coming to him? Ian looked at the clock. The bell would ring in less than a minute. He watched the door for a few more seconds, expecting Lip to burst into the classroom at any moment, pale or coughing or bleeding or worse. With thirty seconds until class started he reached for his phone to to text Lip.

 **9:04 am**  
u ok?

 **9:04 am**  
yeah, im fine. why?

 **9:04 am**  
nothing, nvm

So it wasn’t Lip. But if it wasn’t Lip? Ian quickly shook himself of the idea that Fiona would come or one of the younger kids would show up without texting him first. Plus they would have to check in at the office, and wait for him to get called out of class. They would still be too far away for him to feel. But he the knot in his stomach and the itch in his hands was fighting his rational brain. Someone was hurt. Someone needed help.

He closed his eyes as the bell rang and focused. He used the sensation in his stomach the way he always did, to guide him toward what needed to be fixed. He was pulled out of it, when the desk in front of him slammed back into his as the bell let out its final note. Ian’s eyes opened to the back of the head that he saw every day in Pre-Calc. Mickey Milkovich. 

His stomach turned so hard he thought he might puke. Mickey? Mandy’s brother? Despite having a class together, and being at his house at least four times a week, and thinking Mickey was the hottest guy he knew in real life, Ian had rarely spoken to Mickey. When Ian asked Mandy about it, Mandy had assured Ian that Mickey was an asshole who didn’t like anyone and not to worry about it. So he’d hadn’t.

But now he could _feel_ him. 

Maybe. Was it Mickey he was feeling? In 16 years he had never been able to feel anyone other than his brothers and sisters and Monica.

Ian closed his eyes again as Mr. Griffin began taking attendance. It would be so much easier if he could just reach out and touch Mickey. That’s how Ian did it on other people he couldn’t feel. He had only done that two other times. 

_________

 

Fiona was terrified that people would find out, and use it against Ian somehow. She made sure he understood he could never fix other people. Gallaghers only.

Until Vee came over with a cut in her hand and tears in her eyes, asking for eighty dollars so she could go to the emergency room. Ian had looked at Fiona and she’d sighed and nodded. Fiona told Vee what was happening as Ian walked to her. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and the feeling flooded his gut. _fix it fix it fix it._ The signal went in two directions when he touched someone; to his brain and then back out through his fingertips. Vee had gasped as the feeling sped to her hand, stopping the bleeding and closing the wound.

Everyone gasped the first time, the feeling not painful, but just so strange, as Ian seemingly pushed sparks through himself and into someone else. When he asked, everyone said the same thing. “Tingly.” Fiona, Lip, Debbie, Carl, Vee, Kev when he broke his ankle coaching basketball. Liam hadn’t said anything yet, but he giggled sometimes.

 

_________

 

But he’d had to touch Kev and Vee before the feeling hit him, he couldn’t just feel that they were hurt. And now he could feel someone else and his gut kept supplying him with the answer. Even when his brain said _fix it fix it fix it_ , another part of him was whispering _mickey, mickey, mickey_.

Ian had to come up with a plan. He had to fix Mickey. As tempting as it was to reach forward and put a finger on Mickey’s shoulder, make him better right now; Ian knew he had to be smart. Ambushing someone in a classroom full of people would not help him keep his secret and Fiona was already going to kill him for doing it all. He didn’t know when he decided that this was happening, but now he was all in and it wasn’t safe, but for the first time Ian didn’t care.

__________

Fiona had told him over and over that it was for the best. Every time he watched a friend fall and scrape a knee or leave school sick, he suffered. He wanted to help. It was even worse with Monica. He couldn’t feel his classmates and friends, just see the visual representations of their pain like everyone else. But Monica he could feel. Every stubbed toe and black eye and hangover and dopesick headache, he felt in his stomach and through his nerves and down into his bones. But he trusted Fiona. Fiona and Lip. They said this was the only way to protect himself, that if people found out they would try to take him or Debbie away. And Monica would tell. She would tell Frank. And they couldn’t let that happen. Fiona and Lip had promised him for as long as he could remember that he was helping and he promised never to tell or show anyone.

_________

As the minutes ticked past, it became increasingly obvious that Ian had to get Mickey alone. If he were thinking clearly, Ian might have been alarmed out how quickly this went from confusion to absolute desperate need. But he wasn’t thinking clearly at all. The nausea was getting worse as he bore holes into the back of Mickey’s head and willed him to turn around, or twitch, something to make Ian feel like Mickey could feel this connection too. He didn’t. He looked straight a head all period, taking occasional notes and barely moving. Maybe he was in too much pain to notice. The thought nearly sent Ian flying out of his desk as the sparks racing through his nerves doubled in intensity. _fix it fix it fix it._

It had to wait. After class, Ian would do...something. He would get Mickey alone and explain that he could help and fix him. But right now it had to wait. Fifteen more minutes. Ian tried to focus on the lesson. Something about polynomial functions that he could barely understand even on his best day. 

Ian’s fingers ached with the need to touch Mickey. He dropped his pencil and sat on his hands. Ten more minutes.

Mickey coughed and Ian slammed his forehead onto his desk to keep down the fresh wave of nausea that coursed through his gut. Jesus, he needed a smoke. Five more minutes.

At the three minute mark, Ian began gathering his things, cramming his textbook and folder into his backpack. At the two minute mark, he watched Mickey do the same. With one minute to go his mind raced as Mr. Griffin assigned the homework. _fix it fix it fix it fix it fix it._ Like a drum beat in his head, the staccato rhythm finally interrupted by the bell.

__________

 

The sound of the bell jolted Ian into action. As Mickey stood up and grabbed his backpack, Ian called out for him.

“Mickey!” he said, too loud for their close proximity.  
Mickey turned to him, but didn’t respond, his raised brow the only acknowledgement he offered.

“I, um. Do you…” _fix it fix it fix it_ “can I get a cigarette? Fucking math bullshit stresses me out and I left my pack at home.”

If Mickey noticed the way he stumbled through the lie, Ian’s attempt at a casual smile seemed to work. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess. Like, now? Don’t you need to go to class?” Mickey asked as they walked down the hall.

“3rd period is US History. Fuck Ms. Thompson,” Ian said and gave what he hoped was another easy smile. 

“Whatever, man.”

They didn’t talk as Mickey led the way to the bleachers. Ian kicked himself for not spending his time in class developing his actual speech. What could he even say that wouldn’t make him sound insane? He considered just touching Mickey once they got under the bleachers and explaining it after. But he had a feeling Mickey would try to kick his ass and Ian couldn’t fix himself and it would be really hard to explain all of this while trying to fend of a beating without hurting Mickey even more. The sparks flying through him were creating a dull roar behind his ears now and he couldn’t _think_.

They reached the bleachers and Mickey reached for his cigarettes. He looked up and handed one to Ian just as Ian’s mouth opened and the words started pouring out of him.

“Um. Ok. So you know the stories about the people with...the people who have magic? Well, I do. I mean. It’s real, and I have magic, and I know it sounds crazy. But I know you’re hurt and I want to help you. I can help you. I have to…” Ian trailed off when he realized Mickey was staring at him, looking more concerned than confused or angry. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? Gallagher? Are you high or somethin’?” Mickey seemed unmoved by Ian’s confession.

Ian let out a short, humorless laugh. Fuck.

“No, I’m fine, I just. I want to fix whatever’s wrong. It won’t hurt. I can help you, okay? I know it sounds crazy,” Ian repeated. He ran a hand through his hair and groaned. 

“Will you just let me show you? Please?” he asked. He tried to keep the edge out of his voice, but he hadn’t planned on how frustrating it would be when Mickey wasn’t immediately on board, and everything in his body was begging to _fix_.

 

Mickey shook his head as he raised his lighter to the cigarette between his lips.

“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about,” he said around the cigarette.

“Even if you are a magic genie or some shit,” he paused to take a drag and look hard at Ian, “there’s nothing fucking wrong with me.”

Ian started to shake from the combination of the sparks and the nausea and the frustration and he gestured for Mickey to light his cigarette. Something to calm him down. He took a deep breath as Mickey moved closer and suddenly it was like everything around Ian started happening in slow motion, while Ian’s brain went into overdrive. 

Ian saw Mickey’s hand coming up towards him with the lighter and he took the chance to wrap his fingers around Mickey’s wrist. Once he had his hand on him he was powerless to stop the wave of sparks that exploded from him and into Mickey, racing towards his... “ _ribs_ ,” supplied Ian’s brain.

His ribs. They were badly bruised and one was fractured, Ian could feel it the moment they touched. In the same moment, they began to heal while Mickey stared at him, dazed.

Ian let go of his wrist gently and took two steps backwards. The immediate physical relief from healing Mickey was instantly replaced with guilt and fear. The new sinking feeling in his gut was his own.

Mickey came back to himself quickly, looking at his wrist where Ian had touched him and running a hand over his torso. He looked down and saw that he had dropped his cigarette, so he reached for another and quickly took a drag, exhaling on a shaky breath. He sunk to the ground and looked straight ahead.

“Are you going to say something?” Ian finally asked.

“What the fuck?” Mickey replied.

Ian laughed, he couldn’t help it. The sick feeling in his stomach started to subside when Mickey gave him a little half smile in return. Ian walked over and sat down next to Mickey. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I tried to explain but you weren’t really...getting it. And I knew you were hurting. But I still shouldn’t have just done it. I’m sorry,” Ian said.

“Quit fucking apologizing, Gallagher,” Mickey said as he passed Ian the cigarette.

He watched Ian smoke out of the corner of his eye.

“Does Mandy know?” he asked.

“No, no one knows really,” Ian said. “Just my brothers and sisters. And my sister’s best friend and her husband.” He paused, suddenly wishing he could feel Mandy too. “I would have told her. Mandy. I would have helped her if I needed to. She’s always so healthy though and surprisingly graceful.”

Mickey rolled his eyes at the obvious fondness in Ian’s voice when he talked about Mandy, but didn’t comment.

“Fucking Frank doesn’t know?” Mickey asked.

“No. My sister works really hard to make sure he doesn’t find out about us. I mean, you’ve met Frank right?” said Ian.

“Jesus, he’d probably have you down at the Alibi trading miracles for moonshine or some shit.” Mickey said.

Ian laughed. “Probably,” he agreed.

Mickey turned his body slightly towards Ian. “You said us. The whole lot of you got this magic touch shit?” he asked.

Ian hesitated. The guilt had left him, but the fear lingered. He had exposed himself completely and now Mickey was asking for more. Ian wondered if the reason he felt so inclined to give Mickey whatever he asked for was the same reason he could feel him.

Mickey had been watching him closely and seemed to notice Ian’s reluctance.

“Hey, it’s cool. You don’t have to tell me. I know what it’s like. With family,” he said softly.

Rather than encourage him to keep his family’s secrets, Mickey’s words spurred Ian on.

“It’s not everyone. It’s just me. Me and Debbie. My little sister. It’s my fault she has it, too.”

Mickey lit another cigarette, the other long gone. He didn’t say anything, and Ian was grateful for the quiet moment to gather his thoughts while the passed the cigarette back and forth. 

“So, how it works, um. I can feel my family, when they are sick or hurt, I can tell. That’s how Fiona figured it out. When I was a baby, I cried when our mom got sick and our mom only ever wanted to be around me then. Because it made her feel better when I touched her. Fiona was only six but she was smart and I guess she just figured it out. She said she knew for sure because she tested it out by smashing her finger on purpose. I cried and then reached for her and it happened.”

He reached out for the cigarette that Mickey had been smoking while he listened, but Mickey batted his hand away.

“I‘m not with it done yet. Keep talking,” Mickey said, waving him on.

Ian rolled his eyes but felt something in his chest constrict. He couldn’t remember anyone ever telling him to keep talking. So he did.

“But yeah, Debbie. She had a really high fever when she was only eleven days old. And I was still little, not even in kindergarten, but I knew I needed to help her. But I messed up or something and I took the fever away, but now it’s like her body doesn’t use heat the right way. It’s hard to explain, her magic is even weirder than mine. But she can touch things and make them warmer. She can push out heat. And Lip thinks its from the fever. And I feel like shit when I think about it because I would have never done this to her. It’s hard having this thing that you can never tell your friends about, and people wouldn’t believe you anyway, and it makes you feel like a fucking freak and”

“Hey, hey, here!” Mickey interrupted Ian and handed him the cigarette. “Take this!”

He watched Ian as he smoked. “You’re not a freak, ok?” he said. 

Ian gave him a wary look as he stubbed out the cigarette.

“I mean it’s kind of freaky,” Mickey continued, “but you’re not a freak.”

“Thanks a lot.” Ian snorted. He let his head fall back against the metal post behind him. “You don’t even know me though.”

“Bullshit, asshole!” Mickey said. “You’re dating my sister, you’re out my house every damn day.”

“Exactly, I’m at your house every day and you don’t even know that I’m _not_ dating your sister!”  
Ian could feel himself getting angry as he let the last of his secrets fall at Mickey’s feet.

“Yes, I did.”

It was so quiet, Ian thought he’d imagined it. 

“What did you say?” Ian asked.

“I did know,” Mickey said. He pulled himself up to his knees so he was looking down where Ian was sitting. “I know you aren’t really dating Mandy.”

Ian looked up, unsure, “So why did you just say I was?”

Mickey looked up and away and Ian tried to catch his eyes again. He didn’t have to try for long because Mickey was back and staring at him and inching closer. 

“Wanted to hear you say it yourself.” Mickey raised his eyebrows like it was a challenge. 

Ian’s eyes flicked down to Mickey’s lips when he saw his tongue dart out to wet them, and when he dragged his eyes back up Mickey’s face, Ian understood what the challenge was. 

Ian surged up just as Mickey crashed down and there was too much tongue but it felt so good and the sparks were humming all through him even though there was nothing to fix. The only message his brain was getting was _kiss kiss kiss _.__

__Ian’s fingers dug into Mickey’s shoulders as Mickey swung a knee over Ian, so that he was straddling him. Ian felt Mickey pull his hair back to give him better access to his mouth. Ian moaned and bit down on Mickey’s lower lip. Ian yanked his head back and was too distracted to notice the way Mickey’s lips chased his._ _

__“What?” Mickey said, a little breathless and a lot annoyed._ _

__“I hurt you,” Ian had his thumb on Mickey’s lower lip, sending sparks and healing the sting from the bite even as he was saying it._ _

__“Oh Jesus fucking Christ, Ian,” Mickey sighed, trying to sound pissed, but his smile as he pressed their lips back together gave him away._ _

__Ian smiled then too, losing focus with the way their lips and tongues were sliding together. He felt Mickey’s twinge of pain more than his own when their teeth smacked together. He tried to pull back, but Mickey had him trapped between the metal post and his lips. Mickey pulled back the tiniest bit._ _

__“No,” he said, and then went back to bite at Ian’s lips. “If we’re going to do this,” he said between kisses, “you can’t stop to touch away every damn thing every time it gets a little rough.” Mickey bit down on Ian’s neck. “I _like_ it rough,” he growled into Ian’s ear and ground down on Ian’s crotch to drive the point home._ _

__He kept grinding down as Ian’s hips started raising up to meet him. “If you have to fix everything, you better learn how to do it with your mouth.” Ian cut him off with his mouth and used his hands on Mickey’s hips to pull him down harder onto his lap. Every time their dicks rubbed together through their jeans Ian thought it might kill him. He decided to test out Mickey’s plan._ _

__He reached up and wrapped one hand around Mickey’s neck. He pulled him as close as he could and then bit down on his bottom lip again. Mickey moaned and Ian felt the pain and the sparks started to move again. He focused all his energy on moving them up through his lips instead of through his hands and then Mickey was panting and falling apart and coming in his pants right on Ian’s lap. All the sparks in the world couldn’t have dragged Ian’s focus away then. Every nerve he had felt like it was attached to his dick as he came too._ _

__Mickey took a few shuddering breaths and rolled back over to sit next to Ian._ _

__Ian dropped his head to the side to look at him._ _

__“Holy shit,” Ian said._ _

__“Oh, is it not always like that when you fuck?” Mickey teased._ _

__Ian flipped him off. Mickey reached for his pack of cigarettes, and tossed it on the ground._ _

__“You smoked all my cigarettes, asshole.” he said._ _

__“Sorry,” Ian said, still grinning at him like an idiot, and not feeling very sorry at all._ _

__“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey said. He settled back too, sneaking glances toward Ian, and feeling flushed when he was still staring every time._ _

__The silence settles between them for a moment._ _

__“How can you feel me? If you can only feel your family?” Mickey asked eventually._ _

__“I don’t know why. And I don’t know why it happened today and not all the other times I’ve been around you. Did something happen? What happened to your ribs? Ian asked gently._ _

__Ian was afraid of the answer, afraid to find out what had caused this. But he was more afraid that Mickey wouldn’t answer at all. Not for the first time, Mickey surprised him with his honesty._ _

__“My dad. Nothing really. Same shit as always,” Mickey replied._ _

__“Oh.” Ian wasn’t sure what to say. He looked down at his hands. He needed to make sure Mickey understood that this meant something. Maybe Ian didn’t quite know what yet, but it had to mean something._ _

__“Well, not the same shit anymore. You have me now,” Ian said on a whisper._ _

__Ian was too afraid to look up at Mickey. The bell hadn’t even rang to signal the end of third period yet. Not even an hour had passed and Ian felt everything in him shifting. He felt exposed, but somehow he didn’t think this was the kind of exposure Fiona had always feared. This was so much deeper. He kept his eyes on his hands while he waited for Mickey’s response, silently pleading for him to take what Ian was offering. _please please please_._ _

__“Yeah, ok.”_ _

__Ian looked up, and couldn’t stop the smile that was growing on his face._ _

__“Yeah?” he asked, braver now, looking Mickey in the eye._ _

__“Yes, Christ.” Mickey bumped his shoulder into Ian’s. “You gotta tell Mandy though.”_ _

__“Deal,” Ian laughed, then asked Mickey, “We gonna sit here with come in our pants all day? Or are you going back to class? Or?”_ _

__Mickey stood up. “Nah. Let’s go see if we can figure out how to make your dick do the same trick your mouth just did.”_ _

__Ian let Mickey pull him up too, and let himself soak up the feeling of a whole new kind of sparks._ _


End file.
